


Just Two (2) Dudes Getting Brunch

by isiac



Series: Senior Year: A Zukka College AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Blackouts, Clumsy Zuko, Feel-good, Fluff, Gay Panic, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Heavy Drinking, Humor, Laughter, M/M, Motorcycles, Original Character(s), Recreational Drug Use, Swearing, Trans Zuko (Avatar), Vomiting, queer sokka, sokka is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isiac/pseuds/isiac
Summary: “Ayy, anyway,” Sokka says, pulling away, “a lot of pledges are getting brunch soon, but I was thinking of getting breakfast somewhere else. You down?”The expression makes an alarm go off in Zuko’s brain.So Zuko, ever the pragmatist, asks, “We didn’t fuck, did we?”---Or the story in which Zuko blacks out at his first ever frat party, and Sokka, the president of Pi Kappa, is there when he wakes up the next morning.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Senior Year: A Zukka College AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832131
Comments: 47
Kudos: 685





	Just Two (2) Dudes Getting Brunch

**Author's Note:**

> *WRITTEN IN PRESENT TENSE*
> 
> Now beta’d by the lovely [palutunau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palutunau/) (as of July 18, 2020). And her [Tumblr](https://palutunau.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Please note! The tag about vomit concerns throwing up after a night of heavy drinking.
> 
> This series will entail a very “realistic” college experience, so if you’re not into recreational drug use (mostly alcohol) or blacking out or partying, then feel free to not read! (Also, this is based off of my own college experience -- everyone’s is different!)
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy :)

When Zuko wakes up, the first thing he becomes aware of is the smell of beer.

It makes him crinkle his nose, and when he opens his eyes, he groans at the afternoon light. It isn’t strong, but he’s on a bed that’s up against a window, and the blinds are only partially closed. He fumbles for one of the strings, and once the blinds are completely closed, he groans again, pressing his face into the mattress.

He searches for his comforter, but when he realizes it’s not there, he sits up, a little startled. He rubs at his eyes and sits back on his ass, looking at a room that’s definitely _not_ his room.

“What?” He croaks out.

Zuko realizes, with a growing sense of dread, that he’s in a frat boy’s bedroom. It’s a spacious room with two other beds in it, and the pong table is still where it was last night — in the middle of the room and taking up the majority of the space.

Zuko licks at his lips, trying to remember last night’s events. He knew he always went hard when drinking, but last night was an entirely different story. Zuko remembers Aang continuously slipping him Jell-O shots, Katara making him drink water, and Toph quite literally shrieking the lyrics to “Shots” by LMFAO and Lil Jon.

A memory comes back to Zuko:

_Toph chugs the rest of her beer before jumping into the DD’s car out back. “I’m only going because it’s jersey night.”_

Zuko looks down at his shirt — it is indeed a basketball jersey.

He tries to remember what else happened, but he’s drawing a blank.

It’s not his first time blacking out, but, and as dumb as it sounds, he usually _plans_ when he wants to blackout. He comes to the conclusion that it’s Aang’s fault because, _Christ,_ where’d he even get all those Jell-O shots from anyway?

The room starts spinning, so Zuko flops back down, not caring whose bed he’s on. But lying back doesn’t help with the spinning, so he starts to slide off the raised bed, landing on his feet with a thud.

He feels his back pocket for his phone, realizes it’s there, and then heads toward a bathroom in the corner of the room. But right when he’s about to push into it, someone opens the door to the bedroom, the old wood creaking loudly.

“Yeah, okay, Nato. _I’m just saying_ you should pull trig now. If you throw up at brunch, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Zuko blinks a few times and realizes he’s looking at . . .

Katara’s older brother, Sokka.

 _Right . . . right,_ Zuko thinks slowly. _Oh, yeah, he’s the president of this frat, Pi Kappa. He’s the one who sent Katara the DDs last night._

Sokka is wearing a white baseball cap backwards, and he’s still wearing his hockey jersey from last night. He’s also still wearing all of his silver piercings, even the ones curling up the side of his ear, and Zuko stares at them as they glimmer in the dusty morning light.

They’re on opposite sides of the room, but when Sokka turns around, they instantly lock eyes.

“Hey, you’re alive!” Sokka grins, sauntering over to Zuko. “Dude, you were _so_ fucked up last night. I got you to drink _some_ water, and then my sis and I corralled you into this room for, like, safekeeping or whatever. I can’t think of the word. Anyway, you were a _beast,_ dude.”

_Ah, yes, the memories are coming back._

Zuko _vaguely_ remembers howling at the top of his lungs as someone half-carried him up the stairs, and he can _vaguely_ remember Katara telling him to kindly “shut the fuck up.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, unsure of how to react. “Thank you, I guess. For looking out for me.”

Sokka keeps grinning and sticks out a hand, and Zuko, though confused, recognizes the desire for a handshake when he sees one. But when Zuko goes for his hand, Sokka just grabs his forearm with a good-natured laugh. Zuko, caught off guard, allows his arm to be shaken.

“Ayy, anyway,” Sokka says, pulling away. “A lot of pledges are getting brunch soon, but I was thinking of getting breakfast somewhere else. You down?”

The expression makes an alarm go off in Zuko’s brain.

So Zuko, ever the pragmatist, asks, “We didn’t fuck, did we?”

Sokka’s reaction is visceral; his eyes widen, and he immediately shakes his head. “No, dude. Of course not. That — That would be so fucked up of me. I don’t do that shit. You were barely conscious.”

And Zuko believes Sokka. Mostly because of his reaction, but Zuko also knows Katara would never leave him with her brother if she didn’t trust him.

“Alright,” Zuko says, adjusting his black skinny jeans. “I mean, yeah. Sure. I’d love to get some breakfast. I just don’t have my wallet on me.”

Sokka scoffs and waves a hand. “Dude, you’re fine. I’ll buy. As long as you’re not buying, like, caviar or some shit.”

“Caviar? Just _where_ do you plan on wining and dining me?”

Sokka isn’t expecting the sarcasm from Zuko, so he barks out a surprised laugh.

Zuko smiles ever so slightly, looking over Sokka when he’s not paying attention. He has a few inches on Zuko, but Zuko was always short to begin with and had grown to accept his height. It didn’t help with the gender dysphoria, but he . . . kind of liked Sokka being taller than him.

The height difference is even, dare he think, cute.

Zuko realizes he hasn’t introduced himself yet, so he says, “I’m Zuko, by the way. I mean, I’m just introducing myself now in case I didn’t already last night. I don’t really, um . . . I don’t remember a lot of last night.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Sokka says, gesturing for Zuko to follow him. “You ready?”

“Oh, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “I was gonna throw up before you came in.”

“Dude! You should’ve just led with that!” Sokka rushes to say, scurrying out of the room. “Just meet me out front whenever you’re ready!”

Zuko stands in the silence of the room once Sokka’s gone, and he slightly narrows his eyes, wracking his brain for anything embarrassing he might’ve done. But he can’t remember jack shit, so he throws in the towel.

He walks into the absolutely disgusting frat bathroom, pushes the toilet seat up with his right foot, and then sticks two fingers down his throat. The throwing up doesn’t last long, and when he’s done, he splashes some water in his mouth from the sink and then spits it out. His throat still burns, so he steals some mouthwash and swirls that around as well, spitting it out after thirty seconds.

He quickly fixes his sports bra, watching his reflection closely. After a few minutes, he decides to just reach down his jersey and adjust his chest the way he wants it to look. When he’s satisfied with it, he pulls his shoulder-length black hair back and uses a hair tie to keep it half-up.

Zuko jogs down the stairs when he’s ready, and he walks through the living room on his way out. He sees a few brothers sleeping on the ground — one’s even on the pool table — and when he walks out the front doors, he nearly has a heart attack at what he sees.

Sokka is on a motorcycle. And he’s holding an extra helmet.

 _Oh,_ Zuko thinks numbly. _So was he . . . flirting with me?_ Is _he flirting with me? Is this a date? Does he like me? I should’ve texted Katara about this. Fuck. Did he think I was flirting with him before? When I made that joke about wining and dining? Jesus. Fuck. Shit. What the fuck do I do? Does he know I’m trans? Did Katara tell him?_

“Hey, you good with the bike?” Sokka calls out.

Zuko makes his way down the brick staircase and nearly eats shit, but he catches himself with a small yelp.

“Oh, fuck, you good?” Sokka asks with a laugh.

“I— I’m fine,” Zuko says, hoping to God he isn’t blushing. He walks over the muddy front lawn and takes the helmet from Sokka. “I just— I was expecting a car.” _And more people._

When Zuko sees Sokka’s faltering smile, he adds, “But it’s fine, Sokka. Really, I don’t mind it. Just, uh, never been on a bike before.”

“Well, this is your lucky day,” Sokka says, winking. “Glad I’m your first. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

Zuko slams the helmet over his head and slaps the visor down so Sokka can’t see him blush. “I _might_ remember Katara mentioning you’re insufferable,” Zuko drolls. It’s a lie, but he figures Sokka can tell he’s just being sarcastic.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sokka says, waving a hand. “I can tell you’re one of those people who gets snappy when they’re hungry, so just hop on already, hot stuff.”

Zuko internally shrieks.

His stomach flutters with butterflies.

On the outside, he remains calm and says, “For every corny thing you say to me, I’m ordering something expensive.” He swings a leg over the bike as Sokka bursts out laughing, and Zuko concentrates on keeping his balance, not used to straddling, well, anything, let alone a bike.

“Bet. You’re lucky my good looks aren’t the only things I’m dripping with.”

“Oh? What else are you ‘dripping with?’”

“Cash-money, baby,” Sokka sings, barely containing his giggle.

Zuko can’t help but snort out a laugh — he was _not_ expecting that. “That makes absolutely zero sense,” he says, reeling in his laughter.

As Sokka starts the bike, Zuko fixes his straddle absentmindedly and then looks down at the small space between his chest and Sokka’s back, swallowing nervously. Zuko was always thankful for a slightly smaller chest, because sports bras always got the job done for him, but he knew if he leaned into Sokka’s back, he’d feel . . .

Well, Sokka would feel his chest.

Zuko clears his throat and realizes it’s dry.

“Um, Sokka—”

“Hey, let’s take a snap for my sister,” Sokka says, raising his phone. “She probably wants to know you’re alive after last night.”

Sokka opens Snapchat, and Zuko slides up his visor so his face can be seen. He leans against Sokka’s side without thinking and winds an arm under his armpit, and then he throws up a middle finger.

Sokka snorts as he snaps the picture. “Very cute,” he says. “Katara’s gonna love that one.”

Sokka takes a few seconds sending it, and Zuko has to repress the whine rising in his throat when he says, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay, okay.” Sokka shoves his phone into his pocket. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Riding on a bike isn’t that scary,” Sokka says, revving the engine slightly. “Just hold onto me. I’ve been riding since before I can remember, so you’re in good hands. Promise.”

Zuko narrows his eyes and tries not to think about the euphemisms. “Sure thing.”

He slaps his visor back down and wraps his arms around Sokka’s torso, his heart in his throat, and he tries to keep some space between his chest and Sokka’s back, he really does. But when Sokka accelerates, Zuko decides that falling off the bike and dying would be far less ideal than Sokka being transphobic, so he holds on tighter.

Sokka maneuvers the bike down the dirt road with ease, and soon they’re moving out of the forest and down a main road. Pine trees crowd them on both sides, and Zuko zones out, enjoying the smell of pine and rain from last night.

Zuko isn’t sure where Sokka is taking them, but they effortlessly weave through back roads for fifteen minutes, and Zuko has to remind himself that Sokka and Katara were raised in this town and probably know its roads better than any one of their friends.

Zuko adjusts his grip around Sokka’s torso, laying his palms flat against his muscled abdomen for a moment. And then he fists his hands in his jersey. Zuko swears he feels Sokka’s stomach clench, but he figures he’s just imagining things.

They take a sharp corner through a thickly wooded road, and Sokka slows down a bit, and then finally, when they crest over a hill, Sokka turns left. Zuko inhales sharply at the view because, well, it’s beautiful. They’re definitely elevated, but the mountains in the background tower in the distance, and trees of different colors litter the landscape.

Sokka parks to the side of a small diner and cuts the engine. He gets off the bike expertly, and Zuko _definitely_ doesn’t stare at his leg as it moves across the seat.

“So, thoughts?” Sokka asks, taking off his helmet. He shakes his hair out and runs an aggressive hand through it, and Zuko tries not to smile and fails miserably — he’s definitely thankful for the helmet right then. Sokka’s piercings clink together nicely, and Zuko realizes he needs to say something and not just _stare._

“It was okay,” he says with a shrug.

“Okay? Come on, don’t you like the adrenaline?” Sokka grins.

Zuko is in the middle of swinging his leg over the bike when he sees Sokka grin, and for some reason he seizes up. His leg catches on the bike, and he makes an undignified sound as he goes flying, but Sokka drops his helmet and catches him by the arms.

“Whoa, dude, you good?” Sokka asks, righting Zuko.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for, um—”

“For catching you?” Sokka snickers. “Listen, a lot of people fall for me, but not that fast. And not literally.”

Zuko takes off his helmet so Sokka can see that he’s mocking him, and the brunette laughs, filling Zuko’s stomach with even more butterflies than before. They find a seat in the diner, off to the side, and it’s a little busy because it’s a Saturday afternoon, but Zuko likes the white noise of people talking about their own lives.

Zuko orders a black coffee; Sokka orders water.

“Make that two,” Sokka says, glancing at Zuko.

He raises a confused brow at Sokka. When the waitress walks off to get them their drinks, Sokka explains, “If you’re gonna dehydrate, then you need to hydrate at the same time. You had _a lot_ to drink last night.”

“Ah, how thoughtful,” Zuko says without thinking.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”

Zuko groans dramatically, and Sokka laughs dryly until it turns into a real laugh. And then they’re playing the staring game, looking at each other awkwardly until the other looks away, stealing glances, and Zuko feels like he’s gonna puke again, but for a good reason — he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

When they get their drinks, they fall into a quick and easy silence. Zuko grabs the sugar and dumps a shit ton of it into his coffee, and then he waits for it to cool off a bit.

“So.” Sokka clears his throat after a minute or two. “I’m surprised we haven’t met yet.”

“I, um, don’t party a lot,” Zuko confesses. He brings up his right leg and plants the heel of his foot on the booth. “I always stressed about my grades, so I didn’t go out a lot. But it’s my senior year, and, well, Katara convinced me to try out a few parties. Like, before I graduate. Basically.”

“Oh, shit, was that your first one? Last night?” Sokka asks, eyes wide.

Zuko glances up and decides he likes the blue of his irises way too much.

“Uh, what? No,” Zuko says. “Well, it was my first _frat_ party, in a frat basement. So, you know.”

Zuko shrugged. He was never a talkative person, so he feels out of his element. He can roll with the punches and be funny and snarky when necessary, but he’s never been on an actual date before.

Well, he doesn’t know if this is even a _date_ date.

Sure, Zuko thinks Sokka was flirting with him, and they’re currently alone, just the two of them. And Sokka even offered to pay . . .

Zuko purses his lips in thought and then bites at his cheeks.

“You should come to another one,” Sokka says casually. _That_ rouses Zuko from his thoughts. “One that you won’t blackout at. That way you can actually remember it.”

“Ha. Ha,” Zuko deadpans, making Sokka smile. “But I guess you’re right. Would be fun to go again.”

The waitress comes by again and takes their orders for breakfast, and Zuko decides to take out his phone. He mindlessly scrolls through his notifications, making the executive decision to ignore Katara’s messages for now — he doesn’t want to know what she’s ranting about.

Besides, if she’s asking if he and her brother are on a date, he wouldn’t even know how to respond.

Zuko supposes he can just ask Sokka, like _any other normal person would,_ but anxiety makes him clam up.

“So what’re you majoring in?” Sokka asks, sipping on his water.

“Psychology,” Zuko says easily, putting his phone down. “With a concentration in developmental-slash-child psychology.” He was never one for eye contact, but he glances up at Sokka every now and then out of respect. “I wanna be a psychologist. Well— Or a psychiatrist.”

Sokka’s eyebrows knit together. “There’s a difference?”

Zuko’s mouth quirks up in a small smile. “Um, yeah. If I wanna be a psychiatrist, I have to go to med school. I mean, being a psychologist also requires more schooling. Either way, I’m trapped in academia for at least another decade.”

“Brutal,” Sokka says, making a mock-pained expression.

Zuko smirks and then dubs his coffee cool enough to drink, so he starts taking small sips, monitoring his stomach’s reactions. “What about you? What’re you majoring in?”

“International relations and public policy,” Sokka says. “And I’m minoring in queer studies.”

Zuko blinks rapidly, caught off guard. “Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Sokka raises a brow. “What part?”

“. . . All of it,” Zuko says honestly, feeling his face heat up. He realizes his hands are shaking, so he puts his coffee down clumsily. It _clinks_ loudly against its saucer, and Zuko comes to the rapid conclusion that he can tell Sokka, that he can trust Sokka. “I’m trans. Just — Just so you know.”

Zuko sighs, feeling relieved. When he glances up at Sokka, the brunette is grinning toothily.

“Ayyy, dude, that’s awesome,” Sokka says, sticking out a fist. “Pound it.”

Zuko blurts out a small, hysterical laugh and fist-bumps Sokka.

“I’m queer,” Sokka says, finishing off his water. “Well, I consider myself a dude. A _man,_ if you will. I’m just queer in the sexuality department. Oh, and I don’t like labels, but I’m down for anyone, really.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Zuko says thoughtfully. He tries to remain calm, but his inner gay is screaming its longest “yeah, boy” ever. “I’m gay.”

He’s usually not this emotional, but for some reason he smiles wide, and it hurts his cheeks so much that he laughs nervously. He presses the heels of his palms to his face, hiding a bit, and then glances up at Sokka.

The brunette’s still smiling wide, licking at his teeth, and his eyes are narrowed in thought. Sokka echoes Zuko. “Hmm, interesting.”

Their food gets served, and Sokka blinks, coming out of his head. But he still has that dopey smile on his face, and Zuko does too, and, fuck, they’re already suckers for each other.

Zuko clears his throat and massages at his jaw before digging in. They make light conversation about anything and everything, and Zuko relaxes now that there’s food in his stomach. Zuko doesn’t think the date — yes, he’s calling it a date now — can get any better, but he’s wrong.

Sokka glances down, between his legs, and then Zuko feels Sokka’s shoe under his ankle, brushing up against the exposed skin of his calf. Zuko smiles down at his plate, and Sokka must take that as a good sign because he locks his ankles together, under Zuko’s foot, supporting it in the air.

Zuko is a pragmatist, but he allows himself this fleeting, mushy romance.

It’s his senior year, after all.

Anything can happen.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m slightly embarrassed ‘cause I put my other Zukka fic on hiatus, but I just had to get this out of my system. Writer’s block is a bitch, so this was the solution -- mostly cause I was listening to my ya rom-com playlist to feel better about life.
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :’)
> 
> |[link to all my shit](https://linktr.ee/cass1997)|


End file.
